


First Christmas. Well, not technically.

by 221B_Marauder



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eloping, Established Relationship, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-30 08:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17220842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221B_Marauder/pseuds/221B_Marauder
Summary: Greg Lestrade is a liar. Not as big a liar as Mycroft Holmes. But he got exactly what he wanted and that's what matters.





	First Christmas. Well, not technically.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notjustmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/gifts).



> I wanted to write a BBC Sherlock fic this year and what better way to do that than giving it to someone super cool? [notjustamumj](http://notjustamumj.tumblr.com/), you wanted fluffy and instead I wrote a highly condensed domestic fluff plot. Please enjoy their bliss for however long Sherlock lets it go on.
> 
> For the Sherlock Secret Santa.

“That wasn’t kind.”

Greg could see John firmly resting his hand against Sherlock’s shoulder to keep him from pushing past or walking away.

“He has no business-”

“No.” John argued back firmly, speaking over Sherlock’s raised voice. “ _You_ have no business to allow or deny them anything.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and finally turned his glare to John and away from him, where he had been tracked several steps away. “You don’t understand. This is what he _does_. He gets into everything and _ruins_ it!”

John shifted his feet as he put both hands on Sherlock’s shoulders, finally getting the detective to direct his complete focus on him. He could see Sherlock ducking his head down slightly to get closer to John. It was clear that despite their disagreement Sherlock was unable to stay away from John when they were so close. 

The main thing that kept him in place was that Greg could still hear everything, unable to completely walk away from the situation as easily as Mycroft had.

“Listen - no, listen to me, Sherlock.” John warned, not allowing Sherlock to interrupt him, yet his hands on Sherlock remained gentle compared to how he had seen John treat others. He wasn’t being forceful with Sherlock but he was firm. Greg had seen time and time again that with countless others John has no problem forcing them to submit by force or threat of violence. “What you said was not on. It has nothing to do with you. Do you understand?”

“This is mine.” Sherlock snarled, “The work is mine,” his sharp gaze shot back to him. Greg let out a steady breath. He had clearly underestimated the reaction by thinking Sherlock wouldn’t care enough to pay him any attention. Mycroft was right and Greg would have to live with it.

“The work is yours. But his name is Greg,” John reminded him, a hint of humor in his voice despite their discussion, “and he doesn’t belong to you.”

“He’s part of my work. That means he’s mine and _he_ should not meddle in my work.”

Greg looked away from the pair to give them some privacy as John brought up a hand to cup the back of Sherlock’s neck as if to keep him in place. “Am I your work?”

Sherlock froze, watching John uncomprehendingly. “I thought we said you weren’t my work.”

“Exactly,” John encouraged him, “and? What am I?”

“You’re a part of my work, Which is a part of my life?”

If Greg were still watching he would see John smile up at the detective with an encouraging nod. 

Greg’s eyes widened in shock as he heard those words. He’d never expected to hear them from Sherlock. He’d always assumed Sherlock had no time for sentiment. He knew about Sherlock and John however he never really thought of them as together.

“Now imagine Mycroft felt similar about Greg.” John suggested, his voice gentle and yet still leading. “Not his work. But his companion. A life partner.”

Sherlock scoffed before sighing deeply a few seconds later as he realized John wasn’t joking. “Oh John, you still don’t get it.” The detective sounded disappointed. “Mycroft is not like me. He is a parasite that jumps from host to host - robbing the host from its nutrients before moving on to infect the next thing. What he’s doing is using the good detective inspector and his feelings to get closer to me in something I’ve never allowed him a place. This is another of his ways of trying to control me.”

Greg pulled out a cigarette and put it between his lips before fumbling around in his pockets for his lighter before realizing that Mycroft had hid them after they spoke about quitting smoking. He should have taken the cigarette packet too.

He heard John sigh Sherlock’s name exasperatedly as Greg decided to leave them and began to walk away and towards the car waiting for him at the corner. He swung the door open forcefully and plopped himself down into the available backseat before shutting the door after himself.

The car pulled away from the curb, moving from the location as soon as the door was shut. 

They didn’t speak to each other. They didn’t even look at each other for a long time.

“What the hell was that?” Greg finally managed to control his anger enough to ask.

“The reaction I expected. I imagine John tried talking to him?”

“Yeah,” Greg confirmed, “but I never expected that reaction to this. He’s never been particularly keen to keep me around before. Unless it involves a murder and my ability to give him access to the crime scene I might as well not exist. I don’t understand why this would suddenly gain his interest.”

“Sherlock values his independence.” Mycroft explained patiently. “My job can compromise and command his work. My role as his older brother does the rest. He’ll come around. He’ll get bored of his little cases and need more of the substantive work that you can grant him.”

Greg huffed, sitting back against the seat of the car and settling in. He wasn’t so sure. He could go months without Sherlock answering his requests for help due to being busy with his own cases. Then again, he wasn’t sure if Sherlock could come around after what he clearly saw as betrayal. He reached out for Mycroft’s hand and brought it to balance on his knee before removing the black leather gloves and interlocking their fingers together.

Mycroft’s ring was warm against his skin. 

“We’ll hold off on telling him about these then?” Greg asked, tapping the pad of his finger against the ring.

Mycroft turned his head to watch Greg carefully. “He knows,” Mycroft corrected him plainly and with a small smile.

“Oh,” Greg said in surprise. “Well, shit.”

That would explain the more explosive reaction they got versus what Greg had initially expected.

____

“I don’t understand. Why should we have to keep it secret?” Greg asked the floor as he stared down between his legs and further beyond his clasped hands to stare at nothing.

He couldn’t face his maybe-fiance. He had a lump in his throat he couldn’t swallow down and his stupid eyes were starting to itch. He needed a cigarette and urgently. 

After his proposal Mycroft had taken the ring Greg had offered and kept it within his fist, neither slipping it on his finger or refusing to give Greg the ring back. There was nothing else for it. Mycroft was going to keep the ring and refuse him at the same time. Typical of a Holmes brother to not understand how these social rules work.

“Gregory, please look at me? Let me explain?”

He couldn't. Looking at Mycroft now would be a mistake. If he gave in now then he’d gain nothing for it. Mycroft would get his way and Greg would be forced to go along with whatever Mycroft wanted.

“I never wanted to be the first one to get into a relationship. I never wanted Sherlock to lord it over me that I gave in to sentiment.” Greg remained silent but his interest was piqued. “But I met you and it happened anyway.”

“Suddenly none of that mattered. I didn’t care that I made a mockery of my own theory. Or that Sherlock would lord it over me for the rest of my life. I found you and that was all that mattered.”

Greg finally looked up to face Mycroft. He hadn’t been expecting complete honesty. He’d been expecting the worst. Considering they had discussed moving in together and living the rest of their lives together, Greg had assumed that meant Mycroft would want to get married. It seemed to be the next logical step to him but honestly the logic of the larger masses meant nothing when it concerned the Holmes brothers.

“But my job will not allow it. I haven’t been completely truthful with you regarding what it is I do.” 

Greg had known there was something hidden there. There were plenty of times that Mycroft would get out of bed in the middle of the night and take a call outside or message someone with the screen kept hidden from him. Even his mobile phone had that screen that would only show you a black screen unless you were at the perfect angle of the phone holder.

Mycroft had always explained it away as work and Greg had believed him. He had to keep some of his own work secret considering he dealt with investigating the criminals of London. Besides, Mycroft barely had any time for himself or for them as a couple so he never even worried that Mycroft could fit in an affair amongst all of that. 

“Tell me.” Greg demanded. “Not everything. Tell me what you can.”

“I don’t think I can.”

Greg laughed. “We’ve been together for years and you tell me that you can’t tell me the truth about your work? What exactly have you been doing for the last years?”

“I never meant to forge attraction or sentiment towards someone.”

“You sound like a machine.” Greg shot back petulantly. Mycroft wanted to give excuses but not a single good one was given. He watched Mycroft flinch and felt horrible at the accusation despite still agreeing with his voiced sentiment. “Besides, you just said you didn’t care about that anymore,” Greg challenged.

Mycroft fell silent before sighing and finally speaking truths for the first time in a long time. “Sherlock is right. He’s always been right. I don’t hold a minor position in the British government.” 

Greg stared open mouthed at Mycroft. “No,” he sounded shocked to himself as he said it. “No. If you were you would’ve told me. There would’ve been some vetting?” Greg finally found it in himself to ask but unable to finish the many thoughts that ran through his head.

“I admit nothing. I can’t admit anything. There’s enough trouble with Sherlock and John knowing these things but needs must… considering the work involved.”

“Sherlock and John know,” Greg chuckled bitterly to himself as he remembered all the times that Sherlock had complained about Mycroft not wanting to do any legwork. Considering he’d spent hours of his life watching Mycroft exercise none of it had made sense. “So I get a background check and i’m still not allowed to know?”

“You’re forbidden from knowing if I want to keep you around.” Mycroft admitted. 

“If you have so much power how is this an issue? Can’t you grant me the ability to know?”

Mycroft grimaced, standing up from the couch and walking towards Greg’s kitchen. “There’s a reason I don’t invite you to my home or work. Why I decide what we do or where we go despite making you think you came up with some of those decisions.”

“No. I know i’ve made some of those decisions myself.” Greg snapped, standing up to face Mycroft, not liking the insinuation that Mycroft controlled everything in their relationship.

“Well, yes. But I always dissuade you of the ones that won’t work.” Mycroft picked up the glass of wine he had abandoned on the counter. “It’s just fortunate that you prefer staying in most of the time and that gives us a certain degree of privacy.”

“Privacy from what?” Greg asked, looking up to watch Mycroft.

“Spies.” Mycroft answered easily.

“Spies?” Greg laughed. “I thought you worked in the revenue services.”

Mycroft grimaced. “I do bring in some revenue.”

“Oh god!” Greg cried out before freezing in his spot. “You’re in with the PM, right? It’s more than minor and more than moderate as you’ve tried suggesting!”

Mycroft ignored his question and downed the glass of wine.  
___

“I don’t care that it’s Christmas.”

“I care,” Groused Greg, moving around Mycroft in his chair and setting up decorations. “And we’re inviting your parents over, seeing as you’ve never invited me to theirs.”

“This is absurd! They don’t need to be here.”

“Mycroft!” Greg snapped, pausing from setting up tinsel over the doorway into the library. “I am your husband and I am meeting your parents and that’s final!”

Mycroft sulked in his chair, going between reading some files and watching Greg decorate poorly for Christmas.

“I can hire somebody to decorate.”

“Not the point. And you don’t get to criticise if you refuse to help.” Greg stated simply as he moved on to a different part of the room to decorate.

Mycroft was unable to concentrate on his work when Greg was so distracting. Besides, he didn’t want to think of his mother’s reaction when she found out the secret he had been keeping. There had been an entire inquiry at the office to make it all happen and his mother could be much worse.

Fortunately, it was quite obvious that Sherlock hadn’t told their mother anything as she hadn’t arrived unexpectedly to confirm it for herself. Nor had his father called him to try and guilt him into confessing. In fact, it was very likely that Sherlock was ignoring her too in thinking that she had been in on it with Mycroft.

He sighed, standing up from his chair and stepping up beside Greg. “What do you need me to do?” He couldn’t let Greg continue on this way. The entire setup was wrong. Things were in the wrong place and somehow nothing seemed to match despite these being the decorations he’s had in storage for years.

Greg smirked at him and walked to the mess in the middle of the room and pulled out a weird contraption. “Go out and get us a tree.” 

He’d much rather stay in and clean up after his husband.

____

“He’s not getting over this.” John huffed in exasperation as he stepped out of the flat and almost ran into Mycroft. He hadn’t been expecting a visit.

“I suspected as much.”

“Then what are you doing here? Whatever it is you think you’re planning, you’re only going to make it worse.” John glanced around himself, looking for Sherlock hiding in the shadows. They couldn’t put it past Sherlock to follow John around as he has proven himself time and time again to trail after him.

“I’m here to invite you both to Christmas dinner.”

John stared at him with his usual vacant expression but with an annoying helping of surprise before managing to make his mind work for words. “Violet didn’t mention anything and she called us yesterday.”

He rolled his eyes at the absurdity of all of this. His mother was calling Sherlock and John. She hadn’t called him. Not that she knew there was a reason to call as he had updated her he’d be busy for the holidays. “She’s not hosting it. Greg is hosting it. Well, Greg and I.” He corrected.

John’s eyebrows shot up in surprise despite a slight grin appearing on his face. “I don’t think Sherlock will go for it.”

“Convince him.” Mycroft ordered. “Make sure he’s there.”

“You know? I don’t work for you!” John called after him in his usual pedestrian aggressiveness as Mycroft ignored him and walked back to the car idling down the road for him.

“No,” Mycroft lamented. There was a time where having John work for him could have been the best solution. He’d be able to keep Sherlock in check and use the rest of John’s ability for the good of the country. “But you care about him.”

John had stopped short of following him, hands fisting at his side. Now with that done he had to go find a tree and call his mother.

___

Sherlock had stalked out and John had hurried out after him. They’d both have to be back soon considering they’d forgotten their coats inside. They were both stubborn and that was the reason why the rest of those in attendance shrugged off the dramatics. They knew John would get Sherlock back inside. He’d gotten Sherlock this far.

“This is most unusual,” Violet shook her head. “How long has this been going on?”

Greg glanced over to Mycroft, expecting him to answer his parent’s questions. It was Mycroft’s decision to keep things secret. Greg would’ve been happy letting the entire world know the truth.

Mycroft sat stiffly, refusing to be chastised. “Together for eight years. Married ten weeks and three days.”

“How did you even meet?”

Greg and Mycroft shared a look before Greg answered. “We had Sherlock in for some questions and his contact was Mycroft. We… spoke a bit afterwards.”

Mycroft cleared his throat. It hadn’t been so many words than Mycroft appearing at Greg’s apartment a few hours after sending Sherlock to rehab and shoving him quite nicely against the wall. Greg had been recently divorced. Mycroft had needed a let out. Not the most romantic start.

“You’re telling me Sherlock never found out?”

“He thought I was trying to fix things with my wife.”

“ _You_ deceived Sherlock? _You_?” Mummy questioned, sounding almost offended for her youngest son. Father rested a calming hand on hers, chuckling over at Greg.

Greg shrugged and responded, “well he never cared so much about my personal life. He didn’t see the point in digging to deep into what I got up to out of work.”

“We were rarely in the same proximity to each other when Sherlock was around,” Mycroft added. “It was quite simply done.”

“Oh dear.” Mummy sighed, looking over to her husband in exasperation. “It took you eight years?” She questioned her son before turning over to Greg. “I’m so sorry about that. We married after knowing each other for six months and Sherlock moved John in within the day. I honestly have no idea what is wrong with him.” She stood up and hugged Mycroft, softening the sting. “We’re a very possessive family. You should have seen the fights between Mycroft and Sherlock when they were young,” she explained. “It was like a civil war!”

She let go of Mycroft and turned to hug her new son in law. Greg, unlike Mycroft, happily returned her affections. “I get the idea. Sherlock’s upset about the whole thing.”

“Oh don’t worry about him.” She assured him. “John will take care of it. He’s so very good at these things. And as long as the work isn’t affected it should all be fine.”

Mummy let Greg go and Mycroft allowed himself to be pulled into Greg’s side before Sherlock stormed in followed closely behind by John who looked as if he had been forcibly wrapped in Sherlock’s coat as his hair was now a mess.

“I’m here to negotiate,” Sherlock stated without bothering to explain his earlier actions. “I want easier access to crime scenes and you will remove Anderson from my cases. Mycroft will also never appear anywhere near the work.”

Greg laughed at the absurd request. Mycroft looked contemplative before Greg removed his arm from around him and instead elbowed him in the ribs.

“We can talk about that later,” Greg dismissed him with a smirk. There was no way he was going to be letting Sherlock call any more of the shots. 

“Oh, we will,” Sherlock promised. “I’ll remind you. I can’t risk you lying to me again.”

John sighed exasperatedly as he stepped up beside Sherlock, still clutching the coat tightly around himself and muttering under his breath. “Not like that you idiot.”


End file.
